The universe flinched.
Not metaphorically.
Not symbolically.
It hesitated—like a sentence that realized it had gone on too long and didn't know how to end itself.
Delta felt it in his bones.
"Ah," he murmured, drifting through the corpse-light of a dying realm. "There it is."
Noctis had vanished moments earlier, pulled away by forces even she couldn't casually ignore. The aftermath of the Solar Pantheon still burned behind him—ruined skies, broken worship lines, civilizations suddenly aware that their gods had stopped answering.
Delta hovered in the emptiness between chapters.
Yes.
Chapters.
He chuckled beneath the mask.
"You're starting to notice, aren't you?"
The void around him deepened—not darkness, but absence. The kind of nothing that doesn't belong to space. The kind that listens.
---
THE ANSWER THAT WASN'T THERE BEFORE
The Deltonic Saber vibrated sharply.
Not hunger.
Recognition.
Delta stilled.
"That's new," he said. "You usually wait longer."
The void curled.
Then—
A voice.
Not sound.
Not language.
INTERPRETATION.
YOU HAVE STEPPED OFF THE PATH PROVIDED.
Delta blinked slowly.
"…Oh, that's adorable."
The stars behind him went out one by one, like someone shutting windows.
He rotated in midair, casually sitting on nothing at all.
"So," he said conversationally, "you're the one whispering between scenes."
The void pulsed.
WE ARE THE SPACE BETWEEN MEANING.
THE PLACE STORIES LEAK INTO.
Delta tapped the mask with one finger.
"You're not the narrator," he said. "Too insecure."
A pause.
WE ARE THE VOID.
WE FINISH WHAT OTHERS BEGIN.
Delta laughed.
Not loudly.
Honestly.
"That's hilarious. You think you finish things."
---
THE WALL IS NOT A WALL
He leaned forward slightly—toward elsewhere.
"You see, this is the fun part."
The void recoiled a fraction.
"Most stories," Delta continued, "pretend the character doesn't know they're being watched. That ignorance keeps them clean. Tragic. Relatable."
The mask tilted.
"But I was built wrong."
Behind him, fragments of collapsed narrative—failed timelines, abandoned possibilities—floated like debris.
"I can feel when the pacing changes," he said.
"When attention sharpens.
When expectation tightens."
He looked straight ahead.
"And you," he said gently, "are expecting something clever right now."
The void snarled—not audibly, but structurally.
YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO SEE US.
Delta shrugged.
"You're not supposed to talk either."
---
THE VOID SHOWS ITS HAND
The nothingness rippled.
And then it showed him things.
Not visions—drafts.
Worlds where Delta died early.
Worlds where he obeyed and faded quietly.
Worlds where Noctis erased him for safety.
Worlds where Hell crowned him king and he rotted on a throne.
Pages folded. Rewritten. Discarded.
YOU ARE A PROBLEM.
YOU REFUSE CLOSURE.
Delta watched calmly.
"…Wow," he said. "You really tried to nerf me."
The void darkened.
YOU WERE MEANT TO BE A WARNING.
NOT A PROTAGONIST.
That one landed.
Delta went still.
Then—slowly—he stood.
"Oh," he said softly. "There it is."
The Deltonic Saber slid into his grip.
"You're upset," he continued. "Because I didn't stay symbolic."
Reality trembled.
"Because I didn't die at the right time."
"Didn't redeem myself on schedule."
"Didn't kneel for forgiveness at the emotional apex."
He raised the blade—not threatening. Not yet.
"I kept going."
---
A NOTE FOR THE READER
Delta turned his head slightly.
This time, there was no mistaking it.
He was looking out.
"I know," he said.
"You're probably wondering if this is for you."
A pause.
"If this is me 'breaking the fourth wall' to be clever. Entertaining. Meta."
The mask's glow dimmed.
"Let me be clear."
The void held its breath.
"This isn't a trick."
He gestured around him—at the unraveling universe, the watching nothing, the unresponsive stars.
"This is what happens when you tell a weapon it was never a person… and it believes you."
Another pause.
Then quieter:
"And when it stops asking permission."
---
THE VOID PUSHES BACK
The void finally moved.
Not as a creature.
As a revision.
The space Delta occupied tried to edit him out.
No explosion.
No force.
His presence was simply… rejected.
Delta grunted as his form blurred, reality struggling to decide which version of him was correct.
"…Ah," he hissed. "So you do have teeth."
RETURN TO YOUR FUNCTION.
OR BE REMOVED.
Delta dug the saber into nothing.
The blade bit.
Hard.
The void screamed.
Not in pain.
In error.
Delta planted his feet against existence itself, anchoring.
"No," he growled. "You don't get to cut me."
He pulled.
A scar ripped open across the void.
Not light.
Not dark.
Textless space.
---
A NEW RULE
The pressure vanished.
The void recoiled, reshaping itself hurriedly, like a liar adjusting a story.
Delta exhaled.
"…There," he muttered. "That should stick."
Silence.
Careful silence.
The void spoke again—but quieter now.
YOU WILL DESTROY THE STORY.
Delta sheathed the saber.
"Good," he replied. "It was getting predictable."
He turned away, drifting back toward Hellspace—toward conflict, blood, consequence.
Over his shoulder, he added:
"Oh—and one more thing."
The void stilled.
"You don't get to decide who I'm entertaining."
A beat.
"That's their choice."
---
SOMETHING HAS CHANGED
Far away:
Noctis felt a chill she hadn't felt since before time.
Hades felt Hell lean forward, interested.
The Ninth Depth opened an eye.
And the void?
The void began to plan.
Not to stop Delta.
But to outpace him.
Because the worst kind of character…
isn't the villain.
It's the one who knows the story
and keeps moving anyway.